Maybe This Time

I have just returned from a trip to Spain during which I decided to quit drinking once and for all - and this time, I mean business.

Quitting drinking forever is relatively easy. I should know, I’ve now done it four or five times now. The longest I ever went without alcohol was four months, which left me absolutely enlightened. Channeling my inner Gwyneth Paltrow, I preached about the multiple benefits of a sober lifestyle and looked down upon those poor unfortunate souls who just couldn’t kick the drink.

As I had done such a great job, I decided to reward myself with a glass of wine and I’m glad to tell you that I didn’t even like the taste anymore. I turned my nose up at it. Me? A drinker? Please, those days were long gone, along with my Twilight phase. I didn’t drink for another two weeks, then I made another teeny, tiny exception. Then another one and then another one until I was back to drinking every day again.

(Let’s just say I rediscovered my taste for wine.)

The last time I quit drinking once and for all was in January of 2018. I fell into the classic trap. It was Alcoholics Anonymous 101, really. After 30 sober days, I went on a two-week-long vacation to Mauritius. Since the jet lag was hitting me hard and turning me into an insufferable prick, I decided that one small beer couldn’t hurt. Just to take the edge off!

Just a week later, I was hitting those dry Gin Martinis at the hotel bar; a drink that - by this point - was only referred to as „the usual“ by the hotel staff. Upon my return to Austria (where I live), I decided to keep the Martini-party going, bought a bottle of Gin and emptied it within ten days. From sober to a total slob in less than two months. And they say I have no talent!

So here I am, back from Spain and five days sober. I would love to tell you that something eye-opening happened in Spain. That I went completely off the rails, banged a couple of spaniards in the back of an alley and woke up the next morning in someone else’s blood declaring „Well, this must be rock bottom! I have decided to quit drinking!“.

In reality, things were a lot more civilized than that. My boyfriend and I went to the Spanish capital to visit my friend Laura, who is doing her semester abroad there. I first met Laura in a bar about eight years ago, when we were both 17, and drunkenly started babbling in her general direction about the recently released train-wreck Sex and the City 2. Instantly sensing that I must not only be very drunk, but also very gay, we became fast friends.

Laura and I have consistently been friends for the past eight years. Until recently, I had the feeling that I could share anything with her, but when I told her about my attempts at sobriety, she turned into the „hear no evil“-emoji. She just wouldn't have it. According to her, I don’t have a problem, which is a little like saying Tori Spelling’s acting career is just thriving these days. I beg to differ!

Maybe it’s because Laura drinks a lot, too. Whereas I am the type of person who has a bottle of wine alone on a Tuesday night and then feels physically ill for about two days (not to mention the guilt!), Laura is known to call you up at 9AM after a joint night of drinking too much, cheerily asking „So…where are we going tonight?“, while she is probably doing cartwheels in her living room.

Anyway, I was in Spain having dinner with Laura and my boyfriend. It was a Thursday and I decided to have a Martini. Just one! We were all drinking and conversation was going really well, especially after my third Martini. I was witty, and - for whatever reason - kept reciting that Dorothy Parker quote about Martinis. Oh, Dorothy!

Then I had a fourth Martini. We had a ball! As far as civilized fun goes, it was an evening for the history books. I actually didn’t feel all that drunk and went home with my boyfriend, where I got into bed and - right then and there - decided to quit alcohol once and for all. I’m not even quite sure why. 

Maybe I don’t want to turn into one of those people who just has four cocktails on any given Thursday. Maybe it’s because I realized that - no matter how much I wish I could be - I am not one of those people who can have „just one“. Or maybe I was already anticipating the major headache that was awaiting me after a few short, restless hours of sleep. 

And I was right! The following morning - surprise, surprise - I woke up with a pounding headache and a text from Laura. „Last night was fun“, she said. „what are we doing tonight?“.

Getting sober, Laura!